Focal Point

Extinguish your burning thoughts, if you will.
For a moment come join us on this cool, shaded hill.
Leave your regrets, and misguided misgivings.
Leave your lost hope with your failed sense of living.


Here we hang rags on our motionless mass's.
This is the place where our hate comes to pass.
Take your head high to the kingdom of nothing.
Take your found debts to the land of lost nothings.


This is the place where the sane crazies go.
Here we sing songs of the things most can't know.
Our rags keep us cold in the blinding, bright, night,
for the warmth is simply the end of the flight.


For a moment, come join us on this cool, shaded hill...
...directly beneath the hopeless man's will.